


Once Upon a December

by Ranger_of_Estel



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Anastasia AU, Anastasia!Sara, Captain Canary in later chapters, Dimitri!Len, F/M, GoldenVibe hinted at, Legends of Tomorrow AU, VixenWave hinted at, Vlad!Mick, captain canary au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-03-05 19:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranger_of_Estel/pseuds/Ranger_of_Estel
Summary: Sara Lance is the only surviving member of a royal family. Only, she can't remember anything about her past.Leonard Snart is a skilled Con-Man who intends to use the legend surrounding the Lance family to set him and his sister up for life.When their paths cross, they both find more than they bargained for._________________________________AU based on the animated Anastasia film





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Jael/StilltheWordGirl for beta reading this for me.
> 
> Also; I blame this entire thing on Tumblrs Agentmarymargaretskitz who made a beautiful mood board for this AU.

* * *

                Sara darted about the ballroom floor, laughing and making faces at where her grandmother sat on the dais.  She squealed in delight as her father spun them about, giggling as he set her down and she darted up to the steps.

                “Here, Grammama!” She offered a drawing to the older woman, who praised the work and kissed her on the nose.

                “Leonard!” One of the butlers growled, drawing the young girl’s attention for only a moment as he swept up one of the servant boys behind the throne-like seats. “You belong in the kitchen!” Distracting her from the older woman long enough for her to pull a small gold and teal box from her purse.

                “Here.” Her grandmother pulled a small gold and teal box from her purse, offering it to the young girl.

                “For me?” Sara took it, looking it over. “Is it a music box?”

                “Look.” The older woman took a small item in her other hand, spinning it in a slot on the outside of the box.

                The device opened, a pair of dancing figures rising to spin about as it played a soft melody. “It plays our lullaby!”

                “You can play it at night before you go to sleep, and pretend it is me singing.” The older woman smiled. “ _On the wind, cross the sea, hear this song and remember._ ”

                Sara joined in. “ _Soon you’ll be, home with me. Once upon a December!_ ”

                “Now,” her grandmother held out the pendant on the golden chain, “read what it says!”

                Sara took it, squinting a little as she looked at the golden inscription. “Tog-ether in Paris…” She gasped, eyes lighting up. “Really!?” Her grandmother laughed as she was embraced by the young girl.

                Their joy was cut short, though, as the room lost some of its light, music and dancers stopping to clear a path for a hooded figure. Quentin made his way down the steps, unintimidated by the figure’s approach. “How dare you return to the palace!”

                The figure removed his hood, revealing his snowy hair and piercing eyes. “But Lord, I am your confidant!” He gave a flourishing bow, a smirk pulling at his lips.

                “Confidant?” Quentin scoffed. “You are a traitor!” He motioned to the nearby guards. “Get out!”

                “You think you can banish Damien Darhk?” The man straightened, cloak flaring out around him as he raised a glass vial surrounded with a sickly green glow. “Then by the dark powers, vested in me, I banish _you_.” His eyes glinted darkly. “With a very special curse.” He turned to face the guests around them. “Mark my words, ladies and gentlemen.” He turned back to Quentin. “You and your family will all be dead within a fortnight.” He took a step forward, voice dropping. “I will not rest, until I’ve _personally_ , seen to the end of every Lance in Russia.” He gave one last smile to Quentin. “Enjoy the party; it will be your last.” 

                As he turned to leave, a beam of magic shot up, knocking down a chandelier and effectively preventing the guards from seeing which way he’d left.

* * *

                At first the sorcerer’s words seem to be only that. But then things began to crumble, the world around the royal family falling into chaos. Until finally, one horrible night, the Lance family woke to the gate being breached and an attack set upon the mansion. The royal family and those loyal to them ran for their lives, scattering as they attempted to escape.

                Sara was woken by her grandmother. The two were running down the hall when the youngest Lance stopped. “My music box!” She’d turned, running back to her room before anyone can catch her.

                “Sara!” The Grand Duchess turned too, chasing the girl back to her room. “Sara, we must go!”

                But there were footsteps in the hall, shouting and gunfire alerting them that they couldn’t flee the way they had come in. All seemed lost until a young boy darted up behind, grabbing the pair by their coats. “Quick, this way.” He pushed them toward a small opening in the far wall. “Use the servants’ quarters!”

                “Hurry Sara!” Her grandmother ushered her in first.

                Just before the servant can follow, Sara rushed back, blonde hair tumbling around her as the boy caught her. “My music box!”

                “Go!” he snapped as militia banged at the door. “Go!” He pushed her through, quickly shutting the hidden exit behind her before the men break into the room.

                “Where are they, boy?” the lead figure asked. The servant’s only response is to grab the nearest item from a small table and throw it.

                It did him little good. The butt of a rifle came down on his head, quickly causing his world to go dark. The last thing he saw as he hit the cold floor was the glimmer of light against the little music box in front of him.

                But his valiance allowed Sara and her grandmother time to escape. The pair fled across the frozen river in an attempt to keep out of sight. It looked like they would escape until Damien descended from a bridge as they passed, catching young Sara by the ankle. “You’ll never escape me child,” he almost laughed.

                Sara proved a more challenging catch than he anticipated, landing a solid kick to his nose as the Grand Duchess attempted to pull her free. There was an ominous cracking sound, and suddenly the sorcerer found himself sinking into the icy water. The women fled across the remaining solid surface.

                It appeared the pair would escape, the Grand Duchess managing to pull herself onto the back of one of the trains leaving the station. But Sara’s legs were too short, and the young girl was much too tired to keep up with the machine. Her hand slipped from the older woman’s; she tripped in the snow and disappeared into the frantic crowds.


	2. The Rumor in St. Petersburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard Snart intends to pull of the greatest con in history. He just needs to find the right girl to play princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Jael/Still the world Girl for the beta!  
> ~  
> This one is short but the chapters will get longer I promise ;)

* * *

_Have you heard_

_There's a rumor in St. Petersburg?_

_Have you heard_

_What they're saying on the street?_

_Although the Csar did not survive,_

_One daughter may be still alive!_

_The Princess Anastasia!_

 

 

 

                Leonard grabs his coat, careful not to stir up extra dust as he turns the corner and makes his way down one of the long halls. “Lisa! Come on, Mick is meeting us in twenty minutes.”

                “Coming!” The younger woman comes around the corner, her own coat fastened about her neck. “Besides, it’s not like Mick is ever on time.”

                The pair make their way through the busy afternoon business of St. Petersburg, avoiding hawkers while waving to friendly shop owners. “I’m going to go get something for dinner tonight,” Lisa smiles at one point. “See you tonight.” They embrace briefly and then she takes off, quickly blending into the crowd.

                Leonard moves farther into town, leaning against a pillar as he waits for his friend. He has to admit that Lisa is right, and it’s some time before Mick finally passes. Len steps out, easily falling into step beside the other man and whistling slightly to get his partner’s attention. He receives a quick nod, and then the two walk through the black market. Each is repeatedly pulled aside by multiple salesmen with _real_ Lance family heirlooms for a bargain. When they reach the rundown apartment complex, they walk side by side, sneaking into the top space where most of their own stolen goods are stored.

                “Well, Boss,” Mick states once they are out of earshot, “I got a room at the theater tonight.”

                “Now all we need is the girl.” Leonard nods, retrieving the small gold and teal music box from the safe and slipping it into his bag. He smirks “Just a little longer and we’ll be out of this town. And with enough money that Lisa won’t have to worry.”

                “This town sure is attached to the princess.” Mick shakes his head, setting down a photo of a young girl.

                “They are, and that myth is exactly what’s going to get us out.” He chuckles, “And in return, they’ll have a whole new set of rumors to get them through the day.”

                “Speaking of princesses, where is Lisa?” Mick asks as they make their way back into the crowded streets.

                “Getting dinner, something to celebrate,” Leonard replies, easily jumping onto the back of one of the trollies. “She’ll meet us for tryouts tonight.”

* * *

                The pair arrive at the theater early, setting up and arranging things for maximum efficiency. Lisa arrives about an hour before they are supposed to start, grinning as she dances out onto the stage. “Looking good, boys.”

                Len rolls his eyes, smiling fondly before returning his attention to where he’s setting up a lamp so he can write out names and information. Soon, potential duchesses line up and Lisa ushers them onto the stage one at a time.

                The first few poor attempts don’t bother him; he’d not expected the group to be brimming with potential. But as they continue, they are presented one disappointment after another. Finally, his sister ushers the last hopeful actress out the door and they are left staring at one another. “That was…” he begins.

                “Horrible? A failure?” Lisa finishes, stepping onto center stage. “I’d make a better Anastasia!” she adds with a curtsy.

                “True.” Len leans back in his chair. “But then I’d have to leave you in Paris with the Duchess.”

                “Doesn’t sound so bad,” she grins.

                “Until they figure out you’re not her,” he fires back.

                Lisa just shrugs. “You’d come rescue me.” She hops off the stage, walking over to press a kiss on his cheek. “You always do.”

                “Not that you make it easy,” he sighs, rolling up the paper and slipping into his coat. “Come on, we’re done here.” They nod, grabbing coats and making their way to the exit.

                “That’s it, Boss.” Mick frowns as they lock up the theater. “That was the last of the cash,” he huffs, “and still no fake princess.”

                “We’ll find her,” Leonard states.

                “She’s probably right under our noses.” Lisa nods in agreement. “’Sides, Lenny still has the music box.”

                He smiles at her, pulling the object from his satchel. “This is our ace. Even if our princess isn’t totally convincing, I guarantee the Royal Duchess will recognize this.” He shrugs, tucking it away once more. “And by the time she figures it out, we’ll be long gone with the reward.”

                “Speaking of rewards.” Mick glances back at Lisa. “What’s for dinner?”

                She laughs. “Don’t worry, there will be plenty to go around.” She straightens proudly. “I even snagged a couple bottles of the good stuff for afterwards.”

                Now Mick laughs, enough that his body shakes slightly with the action. “Well, at least one Snart knows how to make a living.”

                “I’ve had a good teacher.” She smiles at Len, the trio ducking down an alleyway and slipping on to the palace grounds.

                Once they are inside, and have made their way down the long halls to the room they usually eat in, Mick goes to start a fire while Leonard makes space on the table and Lisa gets the food. Soon they are eating, wine in their glasses and all feeling more hopeful with full stomachs. Mick has had more to drink than the other two, the duo living on alert even in this space.

                Leonard hears a cracking sound, his head turning toward the hall. “Did you hear that?”

                “Hear what?” Mick asks gruffly.

                Lisa frowns. “I heard something too.” She tilts her head. “Wanna go check?”

                He nods, and they rise. “Keep quiet, and stay behind me.” They follow him out, sneaking silently through the halls and secret passages between areas.

                As they make their way toward the ballroom, a gentle melody reaches their ears, a warm female voice singing. “ _Far away, long ago, burning dim as an ember_.” Leonard reaches the balcony first, sees the young woman dancing about the floor with a natural grace he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Then she sinks to the floor, and he knows she’s worlds away. “ _Once upon a December._ ”

                The others have joined him at this point, looking at him curiously. He shrugs, then turns to face the ballroom floor. “Hey! What are you doing in here?”


	3. Journey to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asya has no memories of her life before she was eight, but that doesn't stop her from chasing the one lead she still has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asya – Often used as an abbreviation of Anastasia in Russia. Also Hebrew word for Grace
> 
> Thanks to Jael for the beta!

* * *

_Who knows where this road may go_

_Back to who I was,_

_On to find my future._

_Things my heart still needs to know._

                

* * *

                Asya wraps the scarf around her neck, laughing as the other kids grab her legs with a chorus of, “We’re going to miss you!”

                “I know.” She kisses them quickly on the head. “I’ll miss you too.”

                “Come on!” The head mistress glares from the door.

                “I’m coming!” the young blonde laughs, stepping over a block castle in the floor and onto the snowy porch. “Bye!”

                “I got you a job at the fish factory,” the woman grumbles, walking down the front steps.

                Sara pauses as she feels a hand around her wrist, then warm lips against her cheek. “Good luck Asya,” Nyssa smiles as she releases the other girl. “Come find me when you get your family.”

                Sara nods. “I will,” she said, sad smile pulling at her own lips as she squeezes the hand in hers.

                “Are you even listening to me?” The headmaster’s shrill voice pulls Asya’s attention once more.

                “I heard you,” she shrugs, watching as Nyssa darts back inside. “Fish factory, fork in the road.”

                The woman huffs, grabbing Asya’s scarf to pull her closer. “You’ve been a thorn in my side since you were brought here.” She turns, scarf still firmly in hand as she begins dragging the younger girl. “Acting like the                 queen of Sheba!”

                Asya shifts her attention back to the doorway full of dirty faces and scrappy children. “Goodbye! I’ll –” She’s cut off by a quick yank of the scarf.

                “Instead of the nameless no account you are!” the woman continues, Asya managing to get free of the scarf after a couple steps. “For the last ten years –” the woman continues her rant, and Sara sighs, mouthing the words. “--I’ve fed you, I’ve clothed you, I’ve –”

                “Kept a roof over my head,” Asya finishes with a roll of her eyes.

                The woman turns, glaring at Asya once more as she yanks the lock on the gate free. “How is it that you don’t have a clue as to who you were before you came to us…” She swings the gate open, “…But you can remember all that?”

                “But I do have a clue.” Asya reaches up, fiddling with the gold pendant of her necklace.

                “Ack!” The headmaster reaches out, holding the piece of gold in her long, calloused fingers. “Together in Paris.” She looks at the younger girl, voice shifting to something almost kind. “So, you want to go to France to find your family?” Asya just nods, humming her agreement. The older woman begins to laugh. “Little miss Asya,” she mocks, grabbing Asya’s shoulders, shoving her toward the gate. “It’s time to take your place in life, in line!” The woman glares, pointing a finger at Asya. “And be grateful!”

                Asya’s about to retort when her scarf is tossed in her face, followed closely by the sound of the gate slamming closed. “Together in Paris!” comes the taunting voice from the other side.

                Asya just turns, beginning the long trek through the snow. “Be grateful,” she mimics the older woman’s voice with a sneer. “I am grateful,.” She turns to glare at the nearly invisible orphanage. “Grateful to get away!” She continues her walk, finally coming to the crossroad. A ragged wooden post stands at the juncture; two worn pieces of wood are nailed to it. One reads “Fisherman’s Village,” and the other “St. Petersburg.”

                “Go left, she says.” Asya looks up at the sign, “I know what’s to the left.” She sighs, “I’ll be Asya the orphan forever.” She looks up at the sign. “But if I go right…” She takes several steps down the road. “Maybe I could find…” She pauses, looking down at the pendant once more. “Whoever gave me this must have loved me.”

After another moment she huffs, tossing her hands in the air. “This is crazy, me go to Paris?” She makes her way back to where the road forks, glaring up into the sky as she blinks against the snow. “Send me a sign! A hint!” She sits at the base of the post, oversized coat pooling around her. “Anything!”

                She knows she should get moving. It’s not safe to be out walking after dark. Knows that logically, she should go to the village, take up the job that’s waiting there. But before she can make a decision, she hears barking, and then her scarf is pulled from her pocket.

“Hey!” She turns, small grey puppy darting around her, scarf in tow. “Give that back!” she laughs, making a grab for the material only for it to be pulled out of reach. She puts a hand on her hip, blowing a stray hair from her eyes. “I don’t have time to play with you. I’m waiting for a sign.”

                The puppy pays no mind to her dilemma, merely barks and takes off again. It takes several tries for her to finally get ahold of the scarf. “Will you just leave me alone?” She yanks up, and the shaggy pup just runs around her legs and ends up tripping her.

                As she struggles back to her feet, it runs down the road, stopping to watch her expectantly with a wagging tail. “Oh great,” Asya scoffs, “A dog wants me to go to St. Petersburg.” She pauses. “Oh.”

The puppy continues to bark, darting back and forth on the path before her.

“Okay, I can take a hint.” She shakes her head, making her way down the road to gather the scarf. “St. Petersburg it is, then.”

                The puppy keeps hold of the opposite end of the scarf as they walk. Occasionally the pair stops to play, Asya throwing snowballs and the puppy bouncing through snow drifts. As they near the city, they begin passing small cottages, children often running out to play with her furry companion. Adults occasionally offer her food or drink for the journey.

                It’s late afternoon when they finally reach the city, and Asya makes a beeline for the station. It’s crowded, and she spends quite some time in line before finally approaching the window. “One ticket to Paris please!” she grins.

                “Exit visa,” the heavyset man demands.

                “Exit visa?” she frowns, brow furrowing in confusion.

                “No exit visa, no ticket!” he snaps, slamming the window closed between them.

                “Well!” Asya huffs, biting back a snide remark.

                “Psst.” Someone taps her elbow, and she turns to find an elderly woman wrapped in a crimson shawl. “See Leonard,” the woman whispers. “He can help.”

                Asya leans down so she’s level with the other woman. “Where can I find him?”

                “At the old palace.” The woman looks around quickly. “But you didn’t hear it from me!”

                “Oh.” Asya smiles slightly, giving the woman a small nod.

                “Well, go!” The woman shoos her away from the station. “Go, go!”

                “Hmm,” Asya hums, looking down at the pup in her arms. “Leonard huh?” She begins walking, feeling more and more hopeless with each person she speaks to.

                “I’m looking for the palace,” she asks one man. Another figure bumps her hard on the shoulder as he passes, earning a quick glare. “Excuse you!” Asya snaps.

But the second man carries on as if he’d not heard her, and she has more pressing matters. She returns her attention to the man before her. “Do you know where that is?”

                “Of course.” He motions behind her, giving brief instructions about what turns she will need to take. “It’s closed up now, no one’s lived there for a long while.” He frowns, shaking his head as he turns to walk away.

* * *

                It’s getting dark by the time they finally find the palace, walking along the extensive grounds in search for an easy way in. Her companion whines, turning to slip inside one of the boarded entryways. Asya darts over. “Axel!” she calls quietly, trying to peer between the wood slats, “Axel, come back here!”

                When he doesn’t return, she releases a frustrated breath. “Fine, guess I’m coming in, then.” She takes a firm hold on one of the larger boards, yanking it back. On the second try, it comes loose, and she falls to the stone floor with a curse. But at least she has a way in now.

                There’s something eerily familiar about the palace, but she contributes it to the dark, the cobwebs and the generally creepy feel that had also permeated parts of the orphanage. “Hello?” her voice echoes through the room. “Anybody home?”

                Axel comes up behind her, his bark bouncing like her own voice. As they move farther into the castle, a layer of dust begins to appear, covering any flat surface, including the floor. She walks over to one of the long tables, which is still lined with candlesticks and plates of silver. Using her sleeve, she wipes off one of the dishes, half admiring her own reflection, when she sees a flash of something. A little girl, spun in the air by a man. She frowns, quickly replacing the dish and moving on.

                Against the far wall is a mirror, but it’s the tall, vase-like object that catches her attention. Swans decorate the center, while bears are on the top of the lid. “There’s something about this place,” she comments, clearing dust from the images. “Like a memory from a dream.”

                There’s a melody in her head, words she can’t quite recall as she begins to hum. She makes her way into what appears to be a ballroom, exquisite decorations and paintings along the wall and ceiling. She can almost see it, women in glittering gowns and men in tailored suits or military uniform all dancing together. She makes her way down the steps.

“ _Someone holds me safe and warm_ ,” she sings, eyes closing as she tries to imagine the sort of parties that would have been held here. She dances her way across the floor, the man who’d lifted the little girl standing before her once more. “ _And a song, someone sings_.” She swears she knows that face, knows this place, as she sinks to the floor. “ _Once upon a December_.”

                “Hey!” The sharp voice shatters the illusion around her. “What are you doing here?”


	4. Goodbye My Petersburg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonard catches the mysterious blonde who snuck into the palace.   
> And maybe their chances of pulling this con off aren't so far out of reach after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Jael for beta reading this chapter

_Nothing here to hold me_

_No one that I owe_

_Funny how a boy can grow_

_Funny how a city tells you when it's time to go_

_Leonard reaches the balcony first, sees the young woman dancing about the floor with a natural grace he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Then she sinks to the floor, and he knows she’s worlds away. “Once upon a December.”_

_The others have joined him at this point, looking at him curiously. He shrugs, then turns to face the ballroom floor. “Hey! What are you doing in here?”_

 

* * *

                She’s running, because of course she would. “Hey!” Leonard shouts, rushing down the steps before giving chase across the ballroom floor. She’s light on her feet, he’ll give her that. “Stop!” It’s more frustration than command. “Stop and just hold on a moment.”

She pauses at the top of the steps, and be stops at the bottom. can tell by the way her shoulders rise and fall that she’s as winded as he is, and despite the adrenaline now buzzing in his system, he’s pleased not to chase her farther. “How did you get in..here…” he trails off, eyes shifting between the blonde, blue-eyed woman and the picture of the royal family behind her. Specifically, the blue-eyed, golden-haired image of a young Sara Lance.

                She answers with a huff and shrug of her shoulders. “I found a door.”

                “An’ just what are you-”

                Len cuts Mick off, shifting just slightly to whisper to the large man. “Do you see it?”

                “See what?” the man replies gruffly.

                Lisa’s already grinning where she’s come to stop on Mick’s other side. “Look at the picture, Mick,” she whispers, and they both watch as the man’s eyes widen.

                “Are you three done staring?” the blonde girl glares.

                “Yes,” both Snart’s answer--followed by Lisa making a pleased sound, “A puppy!” and bending down to sweep Axel up into her arms.

                “Is one of you Leonard?” The blonde woman draws their attention once more.

                “Depends, who’s asking?” Len drawls, slowly making his way up the steps to her.

                “My name is Asya.” She comes to the edge of the platform, leaning forward slightly to stop his advance while they are eye to eye. “I need travel papers.” Her hand moves behind her as she lets her forehead brush against his. “They say you’re the man to see,” her voice has dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “though I can’t tell you who said that.”

                He shifts to the left, climbing the last couple steps so he’s on the platform. He circles, making a show of looking her over. Of course, it’s not all for show, and she could definitely pass for the princess.

                “And what…” She starts to turn. “Hey, why are you circling me?” Her eyes narrow. “Were you a vulture in another life or something?”

                Leonard hears Lisa’s chuckle from the bottom of the steps. “My apologies Asa,” Leonard says.

                “Asya,” the blonde girl corrects as Leonard motions the other two to join him.

                “Asya,” he repeats, head tilting slightly. “But has anyone ever told you that you look like….” He shakes his head. “Never mind.” Mick and Lisa come up on either side of him. “You said something about travel papers?”

                “Yes” The girl turns, taking a couple steps away and then circling back. “I’d like to go to Paris.”

                “Paris?” He fights back the smirk, turning to his companions.

                “Isn’t he adorable, Lenny?” Lisa still has the puppy, which seems to be growing on even Mick.

                Realizing they aren’t going to be helpful at the moment, he turns his attention back to their target. “So, Asya.” He pauses. “Is there a last name to go with that?”

                “Well, this is going to sound strange.” Asya reaches up to run a hand through her hair. “I don’t actually know my last name.” She shrugs, her smile having faded into something more melancholy. “I was found wandering around the streets when I was eight.”

                “And before you were eight?” Len supposes he should try and sound more sympathetic. But he and Lisa had lived on their own; orphan Asya had at least been taken in by someone.

                “Look, I know how crazy it sounds.” She waves one hand before her. “But I don’t remember it.” Her hands move again, drawing his attention to the pendant around her neck.

                “That’s unfortunate.” He hides his pleasure at this discovery. The situation just keeps leaning more in his favor.

                “I do have one clue, and that’s Paris.” She holds the pendant up slightly. “So?” That hope is back in her eyes again. “Can you help me?”

                Len reaches back, elbowing Mick and quickly mouthing “tickets,” before returning his attention to Asya. “I would like to help, in fact.” He closes his fingers around the papers placed in his hand, “we’re leaving for Paris tonight.” He pulls the tickets around. “I’ve got four tickets here.” He moves to the side as Asya steps forward, using the movement to point out the painting. “Unfortunately, the fourth ticket is for her. Sara.”

                “We are going to reunite the Grand Duchess Sara with her grandmother,” Lisa states, stepping up to take Asya by the arm, leading her toward the next flight of steps with Leonard on the blonde’s other side.

                “You happen to share quite a resemblance,” he comments.

                “Same beautiful blue eyes,” Lisa replies.

                “Lance family eyes.” Leonard nods.

                “Dinah’s smile,” Lisa continues, “and look!” She takes one of Asya’s hands in hers. “She even has the grandmother’s hands.”

                “Same age and body type as the princess.” Mick’s gruff voice comes from behind as they walk her to another portrait, this time of the Grand Duchess and young Sara.

                “Are you three really trying to tell me you think I am Sara Lance?” Asya scoffs.

                “No,” Leonard shakes his head, “but I can say that I’ve never seen someone look quite so much like her either.” He motions to the painting.

                “Okay.” Asya gives a short nod, taking a step back from the siblings. “I knew you were probably crazy from the beginning, but now I’m sure you’re all mad.” She turns, shaking her head.

                “Why?” Lisa darts in front of her. “You don’t remember what happened to you as a child.”

                “No one knows what happened to her,” Len drawls from behind.

                “You’re looking for family in Paris,” Lisa picks up.

                “Only family she’s got ‘s in Paris.” Mick shrugs.

                “Haven’t you ever thought about it? Imagined maybe?” Lisa steers her back to the painting once more.

                “That I could be royalty?” Asya asks. All three nod, humming in agreement around her. “Well, I don’t know.” Her voice rises slightly, eyes narrowing at the portrait. “It’s kinda hard to think of yourself as a Duchess when you are sleeping on a damp floor.” She sags slightly against Lisa. “But yeah, I guess every lonely little girl would hope she’s a princess.”

                “And somewhere, one little girl is.” Len smirks, motioning toward the steps as he walks by.

                “Wish we could help you.” Lisa pats Asya’s shoulder sympathetically. “But our last ticket has to be kept for Sara.”

                “Good luck, Blondie,” Mick tosses over his shoulder as the three make their way back down the steps. He looks between the two Snarts. “Why didn’ you tell her about the plan?”

                “She just wants to go to Paris, why share the reward?” Len replies easily.

                “You sure we aren’t walking away too soon?” Lisa looks at him curiously.

                He just smirks, and they slow their pace to match his as they descend the stairs to the ballroom floor once more. He waits another moment, then holds up three fingers and counts down with them. Offering a pleased smirk as his hand drops and the female voice echoes behind them. “Leonard!”

                He waits until she’s called him again from the top of the steps to turn, faking surprise. “You called?”

                There’s a sparkle in her eyes as she starts down the steps. “If I don’t remember who I am, then who’s to say I’m not a princess or a duchess or whatever she is, right?” He nods, and she continues, arms moving about in emphasis. “And if I’m not Sara, the empress will certainly know right away.” Asya’s arms cross over her chest, mimicking Len’s. “And it’s all just an honest mistake.”

                “Makes sense to me.” Mick nods.

                “But if you are the princess…” Lisa bounds up to stand beside her. “…then you’ll finally know who you are, and have your family back.”

                “And either way, it gets you to Paris,” Leonard adds.

                “Right!” Sara extends her hand, and he steps up to shake it. Then he smirks and steps away, offering a half bow. “May I present your highness, the Grand Duchess Sara.”

                Mick bows and Lisa curtsies next to her, causing Asya to laugh before picking up the grey puppy. “Axel, we’re going to Paris!”

                “We have a few last-minute arrangements to make.” Len’s arms cross once more. “Lisa, why don’t you take the princess and meet us at the train station?”

                “Sure thing.” Lisa smiles, taking Asya’s elbow. “Come , your highness.”

* * *

                Before long, they are settling into a cart on the train. Asya sits by the window, lost in thought as she fidgets with the necklace. Lisa sits on the opposite side, filling in what’s left of their travel visas with her elegant script.

                Mick and Leonard come in a little later, putting luggage on the rack above the seats. Leonard moves to sit next to his sister, only to have Axel nearly bite him from behind. The girls both glare as if he’s the one in the wrong. “So the mutt gets the window seat?”

                They nod and, with a shake of his head, he moves to sit next to Asya. Lisa puts the pup in her lap, scooting down to make room for Mick beside her. They’ve only been sitting a few minutes when Len turns to Asya with a scolding tone. “Stop fiddling, and you should sit up straight.” He motions to her. “You’re a grand duchess.”

                In response, the young woman slides farther down in the seat, though she drops the necklace in favor of crossing her arms. “And how is it that _you_ know what grand duchesses do or don’t do?”

                He looks at her, smirk just pulling at the corner of his lips. “I make it my business to know.”

                She responds with an unimpressed “oh,” returning to her fidgeting once more.

                Leonard sighs, taking a moment to conjure a more charming tone. “Look, Asya, I just want to help.”

                “Leonard?” She straightens, waiting for his hum of acknowledgment. “Do you really think I’m royalty?” Her voice has that hopeful tone from the palace.

                “You know I do,” he replies easily.

                She smirks. “Then stop bossing me around.” She leans back and returns her attention to the snowy landscape whisking by the window.

                Lisa just stifles her laugh, though not so well that Leonard misses it. Mick, on the other hand, is looking at him with amusement. “She’s certainly got a mind of ‘er own.”

                “Yeah.” Len offers her a sideways glare. “Hate that in a woman.” It’s a lie, which Lisa reminds him of through a firm glare of her own. But he can’t help the jeer, nor does he miss the face Asya makes at him. Lisa and Mick share amused glances, and the younger woman pulls out a small piece of paper to add a tally under Asya’s name.

                It’s not long before Leonard needs some air, excusing himself to walk the narrow hallways of the train cars. He knows it’s imperative that he gains Asya’s trust; the only way to make her believe she’s Sara is if she believes him when he says so. But there’s something almost familiar about those playful blue eyes, the way her lips tilt up in a smile…and then her ridiculous stubborn streak that irks him more than it should.

                Finally he’s cleared his head and returns to the small room. Asya is the only one there, curled up in the corner reading a book about Paris. He’s momentarily distracted by the puzzle of the book’s origin, but quickly pushes it aside. He sits across from her, hands clasped before him. “I believe we started this on the wrong foot.”

                She tilts the book down far enough to make eye contac., “I think so too.” She then lifts it up once more, though she shifts her body just slightly to face him. Dropping it for another moment, she adds, “and I appreciate your apology.”

                “Apology?” His gaze narrows. “I have nothing to apologize for, I-”

                “Just, don’t talk anymore okay?” She rests the book on her lap, giving him an exasperated look. “It’s only going to upset me.”

                “Fine,” he glares, “I’ll be quiet if you do.”

                “Fine,” Asya shrugs, propping her feet up next to him.

                Leonard leans forward, knowing she’s watching from the corner of her eye. “Fine.” He settles back into the cushions.

                There’s a short, tense, silence before she speaks once more. “Think you’re going to miss it?” Her gaze has drifted back to the window once more.

                “What? Your voice?” He glares.

                “No!” Asya sneers, “Russia.” She motions out the window.

                Leonard shakes his head, arms crossing over his chest. “No.”

                “But it was your home.” She’s shifted her attention back to him, watching curiously.

                “It was a place I once lived,” he shrugs. “End of story.”

                “Then you must plan on making Paris your true home.” Asya tilts her head.

                “What is it with you and homes?” he props his feet up about the time she rises to her feet.

                “For one , it’s something that every normal person wants.” She turns, nearly walking into his legs, which he childishly refuses to lower. She bumps her leg against his calf, “And for another it’s-” she huffs, stepping up onto the seat in frustration. “Oh just forget it!” She jumps down on the other side of him.

                “Fine.” He stands, turning to face the window just as the door opens.

                “Thank goodness it’s you!” Asya says, smiling at Lisa. “Just please, remove him from my sight!”

                Well, at least she’s figured out how to give orders like a duchess. He’s about to say as much when his sister speaks. “What have you done to her?”

                “Me?” He spins, finding her finger nearly against his chest. “What about her?”

                “Hah!” Asya throws her hands up, turning to leave the room.

                “Oh dear.” Lisa giggles, looking down to where Axel is nestled in her arms. “An unspoken attraction.”

                “Attraction?!” Leonard glares. “To our ticket to freedom?” he scoffs, “I’ve taught you better than that.” He leaves the room, going the opposite direction of where he’d seen Asya’s shadow.

                He’s not sure why she gets under his skin, or why her asking about _home_ bothers him. He’d been honest with her. St. Petersburg was not somewhere he looked at fondly. Memories of stealing just enough bread to feed Lisa and himself (sometimes there was only enough for Lisa). Years of selling stolen trinkets, of growing up in the gutters before finally sneaking back into the palace. _Home_ wasn’t something people like him got, and he was glad to be away from the place that built him into a survivor.

                Once he’s cooled off, he returns the cabin, finding Sara asleep across one of the seats with her coat rolled up as a pillow. He sits across from her silently, pulling a book from one of the bags and beginning to read. Still, he’s unable to keep himself from glancing over at her from time to time. She’s somehow even softer when she sleeps. And yet, the way she curls into herself like a cat, taking as little space as possible, tells him that she’s used to cramped sleeping quarters…or trying to avoid notice. He pushes the thoughts away, returning his attention to the words on the page instead.

                It’s a while later before Mick steps in with a displeased expression. “One of the things I hate about this government.” He motions to his travel papers. “Everything’s in red.”

                “Red?” Len hisses, peaking out into the hall as his partner nods.

                “I think we should head to the baggage cart.” Mick grabs a suitcase off the shelf as Leonard begins gathering the smaller cases on the chairs.

                “Baggage cart?” Lisa asks from where she now stands in the doorway. “Why?”

                “Because we can’t exactly get off the train,” Len replies, tossing her a suitcase. “And our credentials will get us arrested.”

                He walks over, squatting down next to the sleeping Asya. “Hey,” he shakes her gently, “Come on prin-” He’s cut off as the palm of her hand connects with his nose in an upward strike. He gives a sound of pain before stepping back, hand coming up to his throbbing nose to test for blood.

                “Oh!” Asya makes a startled sound, sitting up as she orients herself. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were-“ she stops, frowning at him. “It’s you…never mind, you probably deserved it then.”

                He considers a scathing remark but chooses to save it for another time as he offers his hand. “Come on, your highness, we have to move.”

                She allows him to pull her up, shrugging on her jacket and grabbing one of her bag as they exit the small room. Lisa has leaned in to inspect his nose. “I think she might have broken it.”

                “I’m fine.” He brushes it off as they make their way through the train. When they finally reach the baggage cart, Lisa makes a face at him. “It’s freezing.”

                “You’ll have plenty of time to warm up in Paris,” he shoots back, beginning to arrange their baggage so they don’t have to sit on the dirty floor.

                “The baggage cart?” Asya asks, giving the trio a knowing look. “There wouldn’t be anything wrong with our papers, would there?”

                He’s saved from having to answer as the train jerks, and he’s forced to catch Asya as she pins him against a wall. “What was that?!” Lisa snaps as she jumps back to her feet.

                “I don’t know,” Mick replies, stepping to look out the now ripped-open doorway. “But there goes the dinning cart.”

                Axel starts barking from the other end of the cart, Lisa moving over to grab him. “Hey, Lenny,” she says, an odd note in her voice.

                “What now, Lis?” Asya has pushed off him, and they’re pulling the baggage away from the opening in the back of the cart.

                “I think someone has flambéed our engine!” his sister replies.

                He makes his way over, sliding the door open for a better look. There is too much smoke, as well as sparks, flying from the front, which doesn’t bode well for them. Still, he can think of several possible solutions. He looks at the other three. “Stay.”

                Jumping onto the coal cart, Leonard begins climbing, moving quickly across the top of the train before dropping into the engine. The heat is stifling, and he’s pretty sure there shouldn’t be a roaring flame. “Anyone up there?” he calls, mildly alarmed when he doesn’t receive a response.

                Time for Plan B, then. He makes his way back to the baggage cart, bypassing the three waiting faces to get farther into the cart. “There’s no one driving the train.” He looks between the others. “We need to get off.”

                “Are you suggesting we _jump_?” Asya asks incredulously as he and Mick pull the side doors open. He’s about to explain that it’s their best bet when she motions out. “After you then.”

                Looking over, he realizes they are currently running along a cliff edge, not a survivable drop. “Fine,.” He pushes to his feet once more. “Then we unhook the car and let it slow down on its own.”

                He heads back out the other door, balancing himself carefully between the carts. The metal appears to have melted at the connection point, which, in other circumstances, he might question. As it is, time is running short. “I need an axe, wrench, anything to break this apart.” Lisa tosses him a hammer, which only breaks off a small section before the top flies off. “Something a little stronger!”

                “How about this?” Asya hands him something cylindrical, and after a quick glance, he realizes it’s a lit piece of dynamite.

                He smirks. “That will do nicely.” He wedges it carefully in one of the links, then motions them inside. “Back! Get behind the luggage!” The four huddle together, and he glances over at the blonde. “What kind of orphanage were you in again?”

                She just laughs as the explosion jerks the cart. It’s blown out the far end, and several boxes are now on fire. They split, Len and Lisa beginning to put out fires while Mick darts for the brakes and Asya rescues several pieces of luggage dangerously close to the edge.

                “The brakes’ are out!” Mick shouts.

                “Turn harder,” Len snaps, glancing over his shoulder. In response, his partner holds up the wheel which has come detached from the base.

                “Don’t worry about it,” Lisa shrugs, looking ahead. “It’s not like we’re running out of track, we’ll just wait until it coasts to a stop.”

                The track rumbles, drawing shouts from the girls before Asya points ahead. “You were saying?”

Len turns to find that the track over a huge crevice has been broken. And much too close for the cart to  stop first.

                Alright, Plan D then. Leonard turns, making his way to a chain with a heavy hook on the floor. “Mick, give me a hand.” He grabs the end, dragging it to the end of the cart that still has a doorway, climbing down so that his feet are hooked on part of the metal. “Hand me the chain!” he calls, reaching back toward the opening. Asya has it in her hand, earning a glare. “I said _Mick_.”

                “Mick and Lisa are busy at the moment,” she replies, her look just begging him to challenge her. Instead he takes the chain, leaning back down to wrap it around the metal beneath the cart.

                As he slides the hook into , a piece of wood comes loose from the far end of the cart, hurtling towards him. He tries to swing up, grateful when Asya’s hand yanks him upright. For a moment their noses nearly touch, and he wonders that the ocean can be caught in someone’s eyes.

                But then there’s a crash as the wood flies off to the side behind them, knocking down a tree. Asya makes a disappointed noise. “And to think that could have been you.”

                She steps back into the cart, and Len shakes off the chill of gripping the metal as he watches her. “If we live through this, remind me to thank you.” He looks to where the other two are watching them. “Grab what you can of the luggage, ride’s about to get rough.” They nod and he gives a light tug to Asya’s wrist as he passes her. “Help me out with this?”

                She nods, and they drag the rest of the chain to the doorway. There’s a grappling hook on the other end, and he offers it to her. “Would you like to do the honors?”

                She shrugs, taking the object from him. “Here goes nothing!” As she swings her arm, he takes note that she can make a pretty good throw. The pair watch with baited breath until the hook catches on part of the track. The force sends all four hurtling, Mick pulling Lisa back from where she’d nearly tumbled off the open end. Then the cart shifts, rotating ninety degrees as it skids along the track.

                Back to Plan B then. They grab luggage, moving to the open end that now faces a mountain of snow. “Well, looks like this is our stop!” Lisa laughs as they all link at the elbow.

                They jump, and Leonard is grateful for the snow that pads their landing. The girls are laughing, which lets him know they are unharmed. He rises, dusting off his coat before offering Mick a hand. The other man huffs, glaring at him. “I hate trains!”

               


	5. Learn to do it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asya must learn the facts of an entire lifetime over the course of their travels  
> Leonard continues to deny any feelings he may have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Jael for the beta!

* * *

_You can learn to do it._

_Pull yourself together_

_And you'll pull through it_

_Tell yourself it's easy_

_And it's true_

_You can learn to do it, too_

 

_Back to Plan B then. They grab luggage, moving to the open end that now faces a mountain of snow. “Well, looks like this is our stop!” Lisa laughs as they all link at the elbow._

_They jump, and Leonard is grateful for the snow that pads their landing. The girls are laughing, which lets him know they are unharmed. He rises, dusting off his coat before offering Mick a hand. The other man huffs, glaring at him. “I hate trains!”_

* * *

 

                “Are we walking to Paris now?” Asya asks as they make their way through the woods.

                “No, we’ll take a boat in Germany,” Leonard replies, holding a branch out of the way for her and Lisa.

                “So, we’re walking to Germany?” she counters.

                Len sighs. “No, your grace, we’re taking a bus as soon as we reach town.”

                They walk in silence for some time, and they spend the night in a rundown shed they encounter along the way. The next day is more pleasant; they’ve come out of the snow of the mountains and are walking a wide path bordered by grass and trees.

                Asya relishes the warmth of the sun, grateful to remove her jacket and scarf as they walk. Leonard walks in front, content to remain silent aside from the occasional instruction. Mick makes the occasional comment, often about food or how ready he is to get off his feet.

                But Lisa is more talkative, and happily answers Asya’s questions about life in the city and other news Asya’s orphanage never got. Turns out they both know how to throw knives and are both pretty crappy at seamstress work.

                “We’ll stop here for lunch.” Leonard’s voice draws their attention. He motions to a patch of grass just off the path, and Asya notices that there is a sparkling stream just a little farther. The meal is simple: dried meats and some kind of wild berry that Lisa had picked during their walking.

                “So, Mick.” Lisa leans back on her arms as she looks over at the larger man. “Are you nervous about seeing Amaya?”

                “I don’t get nervous, kid.” He glares, popping another berry into his mouth. “’Sides, we left on good terms.”

                “You finally going to tell her you are madly in love?” Lisa asks around a mouthful of jerky.

                “Wait…who’s Amaya?” Asya looks between the others.

                “Amaya Jiwe,” Mick replies, and Asya could swear there’s something soft in his usually gruff voice. “Russian Royal, and close confidant of the Empress.”

                “She’s also the woman Mick’s been head-over-heels for since they were young,” Lisa adds, offering a teasing grin.

                “Hang on.” Asya looks between them. “I thought we were going to see the Empress herself? Why are we going to the confidant?” Her gaze narrows on the man across from her. “Leonard?”

                He frowns. “No one gets near the Dowager Empress without convincing Amaya first.”

                “Oh.” Asya shakes her head. “Oh no!” She rises to her feet. “Not me, no!” She glares as he rises after her. “No one said anything about proving I’m Grand Duchess?!”

                Leonard is standing just before her, hands out in an attempt to calm her. “Asya, lets –“

                She cuts him off with a finger jab to his chest. “Show up, yes.” She shrugs. “Look nice, sure.” She glares. “But lie?”

                “You don’t know it’s a lie,” he drawls, one brow rising as his arms cross over his chest. “What if it’s true?” She shakes her head, and he gives her a disapproving look. “Come now, your highness, are you really going to give up now? After all that talk of finding your home, your family, in Paris?”

                She wants to argue, but he’s right, again. Some part of her knew that it would likely take more than her looks, and it was entirely plausible that the life she’d forgotten was that of the princess. Still, she couldn’t give him the satisfaction of winning. “Okay, fine, say I do agree.” She tugs at the oversized material she has on. “Look at me, Leonard, I don’t exactly look like a duchess of anything right now!”

                Before he can respond, Lisa has her hand at Asya’s elbow, leading her toward the bridge she’d noticed earlier. “Asya, let me ask you something.” She stops atop the bridge, motioning to the water below. “What do you see?”

                Asya looks down, glaring at the reflection. “I see a short, skinny nobody. A girl with no past, who will probably die forgotten.”

                “Way to be positive there, princess.” Lisa shakes her head. “You know what I see?” Asya watches the reflection as Lisa smiles at her. “I see a fiery and powerful woman. Who on a number of occasions has shown a regal command that could rival any royal.” Lisa chuckles at that. “And we should know.” She motions to where the others are packing up. “Lenny used to work as a member of the palace staff, and Mick was a member of the royal court.” She bumps shoulders with Asya. “I think they’re pretty qualified to recognize royalty.”

                The information surprises her, or at least the bit about Mick being part of the court. And yet, it would explain why they were so adamant that she could be the real Sara Lance. She’s drawn from her thoughts by Mick’s gruff voice. “So, Blondie, you ready to becom’ the Grand Duchess Sara?”

                And just like that, she’s not so sure. She huffs, walking away as if she had any clue where she was going.

                “Come on, Asya.” Lisa’s voice gets her to pause, but not turn. “There’s nothing for you back in Russia; you’ve said it yourself, everything is in Paris.”

                Part of her still wants to pull out, but most of her refuses to quit just because there’s an added challenge. After all, if nothing else, they are paying her way to Paris.

                “Lady and gentleman,” she says, turning, arms spread at her sides. “Start your teaching.”

                The following days go by in a blur of lessons and quizzes as they travel the country on foot, by cart and eventually by bus. By the time they arrive in Germany, Asya’s head is spinning. And yet it’s the most alive she’s ever felt.

* * *

                Once they get everything settled into one of the rooms on the ship, Leonard makes a quick trip into town. The shops are overpriced, but Asya had made a fair point about appearances during their traveling. He makes it back on board in the nick of time, the blue gown folded over his arm as he descends the steps to their room.

                He almost bumps into Asya as she comes out, head cocking to the side and one of her hands settling at her hip. “And where did you run off to?”

                He smirks. “You were concerned about looking your part.” He unfolds the gown, holding it up before her. “So I got you a dress more befitting of your status.”

                She giggles, reaching out to grab the bottom hem and lift it up. “You bought me a tent!” Her voice is muffled just slightly by the material. He rolls his eyes, peering through the collar at her. She offers a teasing look. “I think the whole Russian circus could fit in here!”

                He huffs, tugging the garment away from her. “You want it or not, princess?” One brow rises as he watches her.

                It’s her turn for the eyeroll, taking the dress from him before motioning back toward the steps. “Send your sister down here.” She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can get this on by myself.”

                He nods, turning to make his way back onto the deck. He tells himself he’s irked at her ungratefulness, not out of any concern she doesn’t like the dress itself. Once he’s sent Lisa down and the ship hits smooth water, he settles at a chessboard with Mick. Before long, he’s pushed any thought of their con aside, focusing entirely on the game at hand.

                “Checkmate,” he drawls, moving one of his pieces into Mick’s very limited space on the board.

                “It’s about time!” his opponent states, eyes focused somewhere over Len’s shoulder.

                Leonard rises as well, pausing as he turns to find the two women standing. Lisa is grinning, but it’s Asya who holds his gaze. As he’d expected, the gown brings out her eyes, but it also accentuates all the curves that were previously hidden by her baggy clothing. Lisa has pulled Asya’s hair back, tying it at her nape with a blue ribbon.

                “Now that we’ve got you dressed for a ball…” Lisa steps forward. “…it’s time you learned to dance at one.” He can see the mischief in her eyes as she steps up to grab his arm. “Lenny,”

                He gives her a disapproving look as she walks him toward Asya. “You know I don’t dance.”

                “But you can,” she retorts, shoving him slightly.

                For her part, Asya has remained unusually quiet, timid even, as he offers his hand. She accepts, placing her right hand on his shoulder as his left settles at her waist.

                Lisa begins counting off to the side. “1 2 3, 1 2 3, 1 2 3.” Initially he’s caught off guard that Asya already knows the steps, guiding him more than the reverse. Unfortunately, Lisa notices as well.

                “No, no!” She steps up, waving her hands in a disapproving fashion to break them up. “Asya, you don’t need to lead.” She turns to glare at Len. “Make him do it.”

                Leonard doesn’t miss the amused smirk from Mick, returning it with a scathing glare before returning his attention to Asya. “My lady.” He inclines his head, and she offers a half curtsy. He shifts this time, his right hand hugging her waist for better control as she steps into his space. Suddenly there’s slow music, and looking over, he notices Lisa fiddling with a gramophone and record.

                He starts the steps again, counting quietly to Asya until they find a comfortable rhythm. She still looks a little uneasy, muscles tense beneath his hand. “Relax, Asya,” he drawls, moving them across the deck.

                “That’s easy for you to say.” She frowns. “You don’t have to convince anyone who you are.”

                He considers telling her that if anyone has a right to be tense it’s him, that this is the closest he’s been to anyone other than Mick and Lisa in years. But he doesn’t, opting to just shake his head. “You won’t have any trouble with that.”

                Her eyes widen fractionally as he spins her out, but she covers it well enough. “Leonard Snart,” she says as she settles back into closed position, “did you just give me, a compliment?”

                He offers a half smirk, slowly spinning them as they continue to dance. “You’ve earned it.” As the words pass his lips he knows they were too soft, that he should have gone for deflective. But she’s leaning into him some now, her body radiating warmth and what he could swear was gentleness in her usually fiery eyes. And not for the first time, he gets the nagging feeling she isn’t just a pawn in this game.

                The logical part of him knows it should surprise him how easily she dances, that some of the moves he’s used are too advanced for a mere orphan to know. But mostly he’s captured by the grace with which she moves, and the feel of having someone who matches his every step.

                “I’m feeling a little,” she pauses, voice almost dazed, “dizzy.”

                “Perhaps a bit lightheaded?” he counters, slowing them to a sway as she nods. “Me too,” he offers a half-smile, “probably from the spinning.”

                “Probably.” She’s looking up at him, the sunset painting her skin in oranges and pinks.

                “Asya…” He’s not sure what it is he’s going to say, just that he’s not quite ready to let her go.

                “Yes?” she asks, leaning forward fractionally.

                He mimics the motion, her eyes drifting closed as their noses almost brush. Then Axel barks, and whatever trance he’s allowed himself to fall into is shattered. He lifts one of her hand to press a lingering kiss against her knuckles, waiting until her eyes open to meet his once more. “I believe you’re ready.” He offers a smirk, walls firmly back in place, then turns and makes his way toward their room.

                “What the hell was that?” Lisa’s voice comes from the doorway, and he turns to find her glaring at him.

                “It was nothing.” He shakes his head, rearranging their luggage to make room for him and Mick to sleep.

                “Really?” She’s leaning against the frame, arms crossed before her. “Is that really what you want to go with?”

                “It’s the facts.” He shrugs. “Asya is our meal ticket, and once we get the reward in Paris we’ll never see her again.” Before she can speak, he adds, “There’s no reason to get attached to things you cannot keep.” He doesn’t know if he’s telling her or trying to convince himself.

                Lisa doesn’t look convinced, but also does not push the issue. “Whatever you say, Lenny.” She shakes her head, turning back to the hall once more. “Whatever you say.”

* * *

                As mealtime approaches, Len finds he isn’t hungry and opts to retire early. If there’s one thing he’s learned after all these years, it’s that sleep is easier _before_ Mick starts snoring.

                He’s woken by Axel’s incessant barking, and something jumping repeatedly on his chest. He wakes up with a growl, grabbing the small creature. “Enough!”

                Axel whines, wriggling out of his grip and running to the door, where he begins to scratch and bark once more. A flash of lighting reveals the bottom bunk is empty, a sense of dread enveloping him as the ship lurches. “Asya!”

                He ignores Lisa’s sleepy, “What’s wrong?” from the top bunk, entirely focused on getting on the deck of the ship.

                He nearly trips on the blanket still tangled around his feet, then again when he hits the wet boards on the surface. The ship continues to rock, massive waves crashing over the side as the storm rages around them. “Asya!” he calls, eyes stinging as he tries to see through the rain. He makes his way to the crow’s nest, scanning the ship as thunder cracks above them. “Asya!”

                Another flash of lighting and he sees her, and only years of practice and heists gone awry keep him from completely freezing at the sight of her on the railing. There’s not time to think, and he grabs one of the ropes tied to the mast, swinging down to where she is. He braces against another wave, pulling her down into his arms as he slides across the deck.

                “Asya!” He ducks under a swing, trying desperately to hold on despite her flailing. “Asya, wake up!” He lets her feet down, holding her by the arms as he raises his voice to be heard over the storm. “Wake up!”

                She gasps, eyes flying open and breath coming in short pants. There’s sheer panic in her eyes as she looks up at him, still lost in that place between dream and waking. “The Lance curse!”

                “Lance curse?” he asks, as her hands reach out to fist in his sleeping shirt.

                “The Lance curse,” she repeats, though less frantic.

                “Asya, what are you talking about?” he asks, trying to slow his racing heart as the boat begins to settle.

                “I keep seeing faces,” she sobs, pressing into his chest. “There are so many faces.” Her arms have shifted to lock around his waist, her entire body trembling.

                “Hey.” He wraps his arms around her shoulders, holding her against him, grounding her. “It was a nightmare.” He rests his head atop hers, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. “You’re safe.”

                He’s not sure how long they stand like that, but the rain tapers off and soon they are both shivering as the cool wind hits their soaked skin. “Come on.” He pulls away, hands finding hers. “I have no intention of freezing to death.” He tries for lightness and considers her almost-smile a win.

                They get back to the room and change silently, Mick and Lisa both asleep once more. He grabs his blanket from where it had been kicked off in the hall, making his way to her bunk. He’s more concerned about her keeping warm; he’s survived his share of cold winter nights.

                He’s just about to retire to his corner of the room when her fingers close around his wrist. She doesn’t speak, but he’s seen those pleading eyes from Lisa many times after a nightmare. With a sigh, he motions for her to scoot over. She does so eagerly, holding up the pile of blankets for him to slip in beside her.

                Once he’s in, she shifts closer, pressing into his chest with her head tucked under his chin once more. Normally this much contact would set him on edge, but tonight he is too tired to argue and simply settles an arm over her waist. He’s not sure how long it takes for the adrenaline to fade so she drifts off, but it takes him longer still.

                He keeps playing over her words about a curse, the terror of whatever she had seen in her dreams. And when he closes his eyes, he sees a figure draped in black, icy eyes glinting with darkness. _“I will not rest, until I’ve personally seen to the end of every Lance in Russia.”_ Then flashes of green, of people screaming, and finally of a little princess staring back defiantly as she attempts to push past him and save a music box.


	6. Paris Holds the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they come to the last hurdle of their journey Leonard finds he may have found more than Sara's look alike  
> ~  
> While Asya learns that Len and the others haven't been totally forthcoming about the trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Jael for the beta

* * *

_Paris holds the key to her past_  
Yes, Princess, I've found you  
At last  
No more pretend  
You'll be gone  
That's the end

 

                Asya follows Mick through the fenced gate, Leonard and Lisa coming behind her. She wonders if they can hear her heart, hammering like a drum in her chest.

                Mick knocks, and it’s only a moment before the door is pulled open by a young man. He smiles, dark hair falling in waves to his shoulders as he turns to call through the house that they have guests. Before he has time to do much more than motion them inside, a woman appears.

                “Mick Rory,” she draws out the name, arms crossing before her as she takes in the group. She has a kind face, set with intelligent eyes and framed by tight curls. “Now, this is a surprise.”

                “Amaya.” It’s the softest she’s heard Mick speak. He steps over to bow before taking one of Amaya’s hands to press a kiss to her knuckles.

                Amaya’s lips quirk up in an amused smile as he pulls away, and the pair share a short embrace. She looks to the others. “And who have you brought with you today?”

                Mick turns, motioning to the siblings. “This is Lisa and Leonard, friends from St. Petersburg.” He gives Asya a quick wink, then offers another bow. “And this, this is her imperial highness, the Grand Duchess Sara Lance.”

                Len’s hand is at Asya’s back, pushing her toward the other woman. She feels a sudden sense of dja vu as Amaya begins to circle her much like Len had in the palace. “I will give you this, she does look like Sara.” Amaya’s bright eyes finally come up to meet Asya’s. “But so have many of the others.”

                They are ushered farther into the house, to another room, settling onto chairs or couches as the questions begin. Where was she born? How does she like her tea? Where are various relatives…so on and so forth until the sun begins to set and Asya fears her voice may give out.

                “I have only one more question.” Amaya’s arms are crossed, and Mick is reclined next to her on the couch. “How did you escape during the siege of the palace?”

                Asya frowns, digging through the information she’s crammed over the past days. She absently fiddles with her necklace and is about to look at Mick or Len (who’s behind her somewhere) for help. But then there’s an image, one she thinks she’s seen in a dream before. “There was a boy.” She can see him, looking at her with the most piercing blue eyes…eyes almost familiar to her. “A boy who worked in the palace.” The vision is blurry, but she can sense the dread and stubbornness rolling off him. “He opened a wall.” She sees it clearly, the little passage that he ushers her through. She wants to go back…something has been left behind, but he blocks her path. She shakes her head, clearing the thought and laughing softly. “I’m sorry, that sounds crazy when I say it out loud.” But why did it feel so real?

                “So?” Lisa, who’s been sitting at a small table whispering with the servant boy, is suddenly attentive. “Is she your Lance?”

                “I mean,” Amaya fights back a smile as she rises, picking up a tray of empty tea cups, “she did answer every question correctly.”

                Lisa makes an excited sound, jumping up and running over to embrace Asya. “You did it!”

                “So.” Mick stands, looking down at the darker woman. “When do we tell the empress?”

                “I’m afraid you don’t.” Amaya frowns.   

                “What?” Mick and Lisa ask in unison.

                “The empress simply won’t allow it.” Amaya shrugs, making her way around the table.

                “Come on.” Mick walks over to her. “I know you got some way of getting us in to see her.”

                The two are continuing their banter when Asya notices their party is a member short. She frowns, trying to spot Leonard through one of the various doorways or windows, then scolds herself. She’s not his keeper, and the man can go where he likes.

                She’s drawn back to the conversation at hand as Amaya smiles down at her. “How do you feel about the Russian Ballet?” The other woman shifts her tray of cups. “I do believe they are performing in Paris tonight.” She turns back to Mick, her tone almost playful. “The empress and I _never_ miss a show.”

                They talk a moment longer and then Mick disappears, presumably to locate Len and share the good news. Amaya hands the tray off to the young man, who promptly leaves for what Asya assumes is the kitchen. “So,” she looks between Asya and Lisa. “I assume you have other clothes?”

                “Not for this.” Lisa frowns, “We walked most of the way, just carried the necessities.”

                “Well, this will never do.” Amaya motions between them. “Come on, girls, I believe we have some shopping to do.” Both girls light up, and Amaya laughs before motioning them toward the door. “Well, go fetch the boys, we have a lot to do before the show tonight.”

                They make their way to the front door, finding both Leonard and Mick talking beneath a tree outside. “Hey, you two!” Lisa calls, drawing their attention. “Get ready to move.”

                Asya grins. “Amaya is taking us shopping! In Paris!”

~~

                The following hours are a blur for Asya. They hit the streets of Paris for so many stores and even more dresses and sizings. She and Lisa laughing as they slip into gowns worth more money than they’ve had in their lives combined.

                Cisco, the young butler, gives them each a rose from a street vender. Asya turns to slip hers into the pocket of Leonard’s jacket. She receives an eye roll, but he shows no interest in removing it, either. They end up at some sort of dinner & show--women dancing in ruffled dresses and upbeat music playing around them. Lisa pulls Cisco up to dance, Asya laughing as she leans into Len.

                She doesn’t know if it’s the light drinks, or merely the high spirits of the evening that leads her to stand before Len. “Want to dance, Leonard?”

                He smirks at her, a sparkle of something she can’t quite place in his eyes before he motions behind her. “I’ll watch, Sara.” Something about the way he says her name tugs at a memory. Before she can examine the thought, there’s a tap at her shoulder. Turning, she finds a stranger offering his hand, and she gives Len one last pout before accepting and being swept to the dance floor.

                After the show, they are driven back to Amaya’s mansion to get dressed for the ballet. Asya’s gown is a deep blue, glittering wherever the light hits it. She’s been given gloves that come up to her elbows, and maids fussing about to do her hair and apply color to her lips. When they finally leave her, she can’t help but stare at the reflection looking back in the mirror. Maybe she could be a princess, after all.

                She finds out the boys have gone ahead, so she joins Lisa and Amaya in a car for the short drive. As they walk toward the theater, she can see Mick and Len waiting near the steps. Leonard is quite the sight in his tux, her rose pinned to his lapel.

                “You have to tell her,” she hears Mick state.

                “Tell me what?” She tilts her head slightly as they turn to face her.

                That easy smirk is back on Leonard’s lips, the one that says he’s hiding something. “How lovely you look, Princess.” And even though she knows it’s a cover, her heart flutters a little and she pulls her coat a little closer.

                “You aren’t half-bad yourself, Snart.” She smiles, taking his offered arm as they make their way up the steps. Once they get inside, a man takes her coat, and she carefully moves up one of the grand staircases. When she reaches the first landing, she turns back, finding her companion looking up at her from the bottom step. She’s not sure she’s ever seen him speechless, and the way he watches makes her suddenly self-conscious. She raises a brow questioningly, and he’s quickly at her side again.

                He leads her to box seats, the two of them in the very front row. Lisa and Mick are seated behind them. Once they are seated, Leonard fishes a pair of binoculars from his jacket, offering them to her before motioning to the other side of the theater. “There she is.”

                Asya takes the binoculars, scanning the seats until she sees Amaya. Next to her is a much older woman, dressed in royal purple with a glittering crown atop her head. “Please remember me,” she whispers. And then the lights dim, and the curtain pulls back from the stage. If she’s honest, Asya finds herself unable to focus on the actual ballet more than a few minutes at a time. Instead, her mind wanders back to the woman who may be her family. _Will she remember me? What if we can’t get to see her? What if Leonard was wrong and I really am just a nobody?_

                It’s not until Len’s fingers slip between her gloved ones, drawing her attention to her lap, that she realizes she’s shredded the program they were given. “Breathe,” he drawls, leaning to whisper near her ear. “Everything is going to turn out.”

                There’s something comforting, grounding, about the warmth of his hand linked with hers. And it’s the first thing she’s been able to really focus on since they arrived, though she refuses to consider what makes his almost-touch so special. They reach intermission, and he gives her hand a gentle squeeze as the curtains drop. Then he gives her a simple, “it’s time,” and a small reassuring smile as she turns to look at him.

                She nods, allowing him to lead her through the crowded halls. With every step, her anxiety, her doubts, grow larger. “Relax,” he drawls. She takes another step, and then turns around with a huff. She hears him sigh, catching her elbow and turning her back around. “You’ve got this.” That look is back in his eyes. “You are Sara Lance.”

                His hand finds hers again, and Asya wills herself to trust him as she has thus far. They reach the door to the Grand Duchess’ box and he turns to face her. “Wait by the door.” He motions inside. “I’ll go first, announce your arrival.”

                She nods, and he turns toward the door. “Leonard!”

                Len turns, looking less guarded than moments before. “Hmm?”

                “We’ve…been through a lot together now,” she begins, and he offers a hum of agreement. “And I…” She could swear he’s stepped closer, or maybe she has? “I just wanted to, you know…” He’s so close, the lights reflecting off his eyes, and she nearly loses her thought. “…say thank you.” She nods, pulling herself out of whatever spell he seemed to cast when she was close. “For everything you’ve done.” Part of her knows that there’s more to be said, but she’s got enough risks on her plate.

                He turns to the door, and she turns away to try and find her composure. “Asya,” she hears from behind.

                Her heart jumps when Len says her name, and she spins back, hoping desperately he’ll say what she couldn’t. “Yes?”

                “I…” He looks at her quietly a moment longer, and it kills her.

                “Len?” She steps closer, her hand somehow ending up in his.

                But then suddenly his walls are back up, the warmth of his voice fading. “You deserve this.” He offers a half smile, and frankly she’s not sure if she should be pleased or upset. But then he’s slipping into the room, leaving the door cracked just enough for her to hear the conversation inside.

                She steps closer, leaning against the wall in an attempt not to look suspicious. Leonard’s voice travels easily through the door, each word clear despite his drawl. “Please inform the Dowager Empress that I have found her granddaughter, the Grand Duchess Sara. She’s waiting just outside.”

                “I’m very sorry,” Amaya’s pleased tone betrays any authority her words were meant to have. “The Dowager Empress will see no one.”

                Asya can’t make out the next words, though it’s not a voice she recognizes. But then there’s a sigh, and Amaya’s voice has lost some of its perk. “Come on, I’ll see you to the door.”

                It gets unnervingly quiet, but no one comes through the door. And then the third voice returns, more clearly this time. “I’ve seen it before! Men who train girls in the royal ways.” Asya thinks Leonard starts to say something but is cut off. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I’ve had enough.” There’s authority in the voice, even as it remains at a normal volume. “I don’t care how you’ve fashioned this girl to look like her, sound like her or act like her. In the end, it never is her.”

                “This time it is.” Len’s voice is firm but with a pleading edge.

                “Leonard?” The Dowager’s voice returns, this time with an edge of venom. “I’ve heard of you; you’re that con man from St. Petersburg. The man who was holding auditions to find a girl who looked like my Sara.”Asya heart drops, a mix of nausea and hot fury swirling in her gut.

Len’s charming tone suddenly causes her gut to churn more. “But we’ve come all the way from Russia!”

                “And others have come farther!” The Dowager’s voice raises slightly. “How much pain will you inflict on an old woman for money?”

                He’d used her! He’d known all along she wasn’t royal, stringing her along in his little game. Tears burn Asya’s eyes but she blinks them back, refusing to let that be the emotion others see. Instead she focuses on the anger, the fire in her veins at being a piece on someone else’s board. Two men brush past her into the room, and moments later, Leonard is thrown out at her feet.

                He rises to his knees, looking up to where she stands before him. “It was all a lie?” she says. It’s halfquestion, half-accusation as she glares.

                “No.” He shakes his head, rising to his feet.

                “You used me!” It’s an accusation as she turns on him, pulling herself up so she’s almost level with him. “I was just part of your con to try and get her money?”

                “No.” He sighs, and Asya finds she can’t look at him anymore. She turns, walking away with Leonard easily keeping step. “It started that way, but things changed. You are Sara Lance.”

                “Stop!” She turns, shoving him in the chest as the tears burn in her eyes. “From the very beginning, you lied to me.” She gives a short, broken laugh. “And what’s worse, I actually believed you. Believed that I could be…” Her voice trails off, and she growls in frustration before turning to storm away.

                But he’s in front of her again. “Asya, Asya listen to me.” He frowns., “When you spoke of the hidden door, the boy? That was…”

                “No!” she cuts him off, stepping back before she can get caught up in another one of his stories. “I don’t care what I said, what I remembered.”

                He says something else, then grabs her wrist and she instinctively pulls herself free, her hand pulling back for a strike. There’s a flash of something--fear? pain?--In his eyes, and it’s enough to break through her anger. Her hand drops, but the glare doesn’t change. “Don’t follow me,” she hisses, then storms away, hailing a taxi with the money Amaya had given them earlier that night.

                She gets inside the room she’s been given, yanking the gloves from her hands and throwing them onto the bed. She’s furious--with Leonard, with Mick, with Lisa…but mostly with herself. For believing she could ever be anything but little orphan Asya. For believing that the way Leonard looked at her might mean something.

                There’s a knock at the door and Asya growls “Go away, Leonard!” She hears the door open, and turns to glare at the intruder. “I said I don’t…” She trails off, gasping softly. “I’m sorry…I thought you were someone else.”


	7. At the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the work he's put into getting her here, Leonard refuses to let Sara Lance leave Paris without putting up a fight.  
> Sara may have finally found her family, but is it worth what she's giving up in return?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost the end guys! (I have a short epilogue left to post)
> 
> Thanks to Jael as always for being an amazing beta!

* * *

_No one told me I was going to find you_  
Unexpected, what you did to my heart  
When I lost hope, you were there to remind me  
This is the start

 

                Leonard waits just outside the theater, watching as the Dowager steps into the car before he sneaks around and slips into the driver’s seat.

                He pushes the pedal down hard, careful not to lose control of the car as it lurches forward. “Nathaniel! Slow down!” the older woman demands from behind.

                 “I’m afraid Nathaniel isn’t here,” he drawls, turning to smirk at her. “And I’ve no intention of slowing down until you’ve heard me out, _your majesty_.”

                “How dare you!” She looks genuinely shocked, and as much as he’d like to enjoy that, he chooses to return his eyes to the road. “Stop this car immediately.”

                He rolls his eyes, taking another sharp turn and gaining an indignant sound from the woman. At that point, she opts for absolute silence, which is just as good for him. Leonard parks smoothly in front of the house where Sara is likely still cursing his name, then walks around to open the passenger door. “Now,” he looks at the older woman, crossing his arms over his chest, “go speak to her. Go in there and look at her, and then tell me she is not your granddaughter.”

                “I will not be badgered by you a moment longer.” She glares down her nose at him.

                Leonard considers another snide remark, but he knows it will get him nowhere, and he’s short on time. Instead he reaches into his jacket, pulling out the music box he’s carried so long. He kneels, offering the item up to her. “Do you recognize this?”

                Her demeanor shifts, and one gloved hand takes it from his hand. “Where did you get this?”

                He sighs, making an effort to soften his tone. “I know you’ve lost everything and found nothing but pain since.” He motions to the house. “But it seems to me that she’s been as lost and alone as you.”

                The older woman rips her eyes from the music box to look at him once more, resignation creeping into her tone. “You’ll stop at nothing, will you?”

                Leonard smirks, knowing he’s won as he straightens. “I’ve only just begun.”

                She sighs, but motions for him to move from the doorway and allows him to assist her in getting out of the car and moving toward the door. He walks with her through the house, motioning toward Asya’s room.

                He remains in the hall as she knocks, the voice of the younger woman only slightly muffled as she responds. “Go away, Leonard!”

                The Dowagers enters, and Leonard stands behind the door after it’s closed, listening. For a moment, Leonard thinks he’s going to have to block the exit, but then something triggers another of Asya’s memories. He remains a minute longer, then grabs his coat before he slips outside once more.

                There, Leonard stands at the gate, looking into the open balcony as the women laugh and embrace. “Congratulations. Princess,” he whispers. “You found your family.” He inclines his head, and then turns to make his way down the street to find other lodging for the night.

* * *

                It’s a couple days later that Leonard finds himself back in the Dowager’s Paris home, standing across from the woman who’d been so angry with him a few days ago. He bows. “You sent for me, your grace?”

                The Dowager motions to a chest that rests open on her desk. “Ten million rubles, as promised.” She smiles. “Along with my gratitude.”

                “I’ll accept your gratitude.” Leonard shakes his head. “But nothing more.”

                “Surely you want something?” The woman eyes him curiously.

                “Perhaps.” He shakes his head. “But it’s nothing within your power to give me.” He bows once more, then turns to leave.

                “Young man.” Leonard stops, but does not turn as she continues. “Where did you get that music box?” He considers lying, making up a tale about purchasing it from a peddler. But then she’s circling him. “You were the servant boy, weren’t you? The one that got us out?”

                He doesn’t want that recognition, and especially not the sort of thanks that comes with it. He keeps from meeting her eyes, turning as she continues to move around him. “You saved her life, and mine. And then you restore her to me, and yet…” There’s something unnervingly perceptive about her tone. “…you want no reward?”

                He shakes his head, absently wondering why he came in the first place. “Not anymore.”

                “Why the change of mind?” The Dowager’s voice is gentle, and he cannot bring himself to response with his usual icy indifference.

                 “It was more a change of heart.” Leonard feels the almost-smile on his lips, quickly covering it once more. “I must go,” He bows, taking his leave and focusing on the stairs as he walks out.

                “Hello, Leonard.” He freezes at the voice, turning to see Asya—no, _Sara--_ standing on the platform next to him. She’s stunning in her gown, a glittering crown atop her head.

                “Hello,” he smirks. She’s breathtaking and he is desperately trying to hide the fact that he notices.

                “Did you collect your reward?” Her tone remains uninterested, but her eyes are still sharp with anger.

                He can’t bring himself to lie to her, not again. But he also dares not say the truth. “My business is complete.”

                He’s just beginning his retreat when one of the servants speaks. “Young man, you will bow. And address the princess as, ‘your highness.’”

                Sara waves him off. “No, that’s not necessary.”

                Leonard holds up one hand. “Please.” He bows at the waist, to Sara. “Your highness.” He raises, trying to commit this image to memory. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for.”

                “Yes.” She straightens, and despite her size she’s almost intimidating. “I’m glad you did, too.”

                “Well, then…” He watches her. “…guess this is goodbye.” Another bow. “Your highness.” And as he finishes his decent of the steps, he almost wishes she would call him back.

                From there, Leonard makes his way to one of the other rooms. Mick is standing before a mirror, dressed to the nines. They’ve even gotten Axel a sash where the pup sits next to him.

                “Well…” Len waits for the other man to turn. “If you’re ever in St. Petersburg again, look me up.” He steps forward, grasping the larger man’s hand in his. “So long, Mick,”

                The other man sighs, pulling him in for a brief hug, holding his upper arm as they separate. “Look, Boss, you’re makin’ a mistake.”

                “Trust me.” Len’s lips pull into a wry smile. “This is one thing I’m doing right.” He moves over to where the small dog is still upon the pedestal. “So long, mutt.” The creature whines at him. “I can’t stay. My kind don’t belong here.” And then he turns to leave with a sigh.

                Lisa is slightly harder to find, but he eventually locates her standing before a much smaller mirror. She’s in a glittering red gown, hair falling in ringlets. “Lenny!” She grins when she sees him in the mirror. “You’ll never believe what…” she trails off, frowning as they regard one another silently. “You aren’t staying, then.” It’s more statement than question as she looks at him.

                “But you are.” Leonard gives a little smile, stepping up to twirl a strand of hair near her face.

                She bites her lip, nodding softly. “Amaya has offered me a position on her staff. An honest job, lodging.” She shrugs. “A lot more than we had.”

                He feels the smirk tug at his lips. “And I suppose the Ramon boy has nothing to do with your choice?” She flushes, and he pulls her into a hug. “As long as you are happy, I am.”

                “No, you aren’t.” She sighs as they pull apart. “You should have told her.”

                He shakes his head. “She has her family.” He scoffs, “besides, I’d hardly enjoy life as a royal.”

                Lisa snorts but chooses not to voice her disagreement. Instead she leans up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Take care of yourself.” She smiles sadly. “And don’t forget your little sister.”

                He cups her cheek. “Never.” He presses a lingering kiss to her crown, then makes his way toward the door.

* * *

                Not much later, Leonard’s about to get his ticket out of town, just a few more steps…but that sinking feeling in his gut is back. Just like that night in the palace. He groans, turning to make his way back toward the ball. He sees eerie green light at a distance, and quickens his pace. He feels the ground shake then, and sees Damien standing near the breaking section of the bridge. “No one is coming to save you this time, Princess,” the sorcerer hisses.

                “You want to bet?” Len growls, shifting his body to throw extra force into the swing as his fist hits the sorcerer’s jaw.

                He slides down the cracking cobblestone, grabbing Sara’s hands and pulling her from the edge. “Leonard?!” She looks at him in a mixture of surprise and hope as he pulls her toward him. “If we survive this, remind me to-“

                “You can thank me later,” he drawls, but before he can say more, he’s being pulled away by magic. He ends up on the back of a stone Pegasus, which on another day might alarm him. It throws him off, and he grabs a broken piece of rebar to fight the massive creature off.

                “Leonard!” He glances over to see Sara once more struggling to get a hand on the ledge, Damien smirking as he saunters toward her.

                “Hang on!” He tries to fend off the creature, but it blocks him every time he attempts to move toward her.

                “Finally!” Darhk laughs. “The end of the Lance family, for good this time.”

                Leonard hears Axel’s bark, sees the sorcerer pulled away. But then Sara’s shout fills the air, and he knows she’s lost her grip. “Sara!” He makes a run for it, diving off the edge. But his opponent is faster, and he feels a couple of his ribs crack as he hits the stone muzzle of the horse.

                “Long live the house of Lance” Darhk’s laughter returns.

                “Right!” He hears Sara’s voice rise. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” Leonard catches a glimpse of tattered gold in the edge of his vision as he’s tossed back onto the cobblestones. He watches as the fiery young woman tackles Damien, and he smirks despite the circumstances.

                Sara gets the source of the sorcerer’s power, cracking it with her heel and causing the Pegasus to shatter. He feels a piece of rock as it hits his head, and then his world goes black.

                He groans as he comes to, feels something warm leaning against his waist. As he starts to sit up, Sara spins, her hand connecting solidly with his face. “Len!” His vision is still swimming as she half-tackles him back to the ground, tears still in her eyes.

                “Easy!” He winces, her weight quickly moving off him.

                “Sorry!” She puts her hands up, helping balance him as he sits up. Len offers a hum of acknowledgment, hand coming up to rest over his aching ribs. He turns to face her as she begins speaking. “I thought you were going back to St. Petersburg?“

                “Good thing I didn’t,” he deflects

                “And you didn’t take the reward money?” She frowns.

                He shrugs. “Where’s the fun in that?” He can see her now, her hair falling from the delicate braids, mud smeared on her cheek and dress in shreds…but no less beautiful.

                “Why?” He’s not sure which question she’s following up, but it doesn’t matter, the answers are all the same.

                “Because,” he sighs, “I couldn’t stop wondering about what might have been…for me, and you.” Her hand comes up to trace along his jaw. “And me and you.”

                He’s just about to close the distance between them when Axel barks, and they both pull away. The small dog is sitting before them, tiara clasped between his teeth. It breaks the moment; Leonard’s jaw clenches as he again reminds himself why he walked away. He takes the glittering crown, helping Sara to her feet as he rises. “They’re waiting for you,” he says, holding it out.

                She takes it, shifting it in her hands before shaking her head and looking back up. “What if I’d rather escape? Know anyone that can help with that?”

                Leonard can’t help but smile. “Yeah.” he nods, one hand reaching up to take her free one. “I might know someone who can help with that.”

                And then she’s kissing him. His hands are at her waist, and hers slide to cradle his neck as the tiara clatters to the ground at their feet.

 

_And life is a road that I wanna keep going_  
Love is a river, I wanna keep flowing  
Life is a road, now and forever, wonderful journey  
I'll be there when the world stops turning  
I'll be there when the storm is through  
In the end I wanna be standing  
At the beginning with you


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well ladies and gents, we've officially reached the end of this story.   
> I'm so grateful for all of you that stuck with this one, even with the long gaps/irregular updates.

* * *

                Lisa makes her way through the halls, ducking by staff and guests alike as she makes her way to the room where Sara is preparing for the big reveal. To be honest she doesn’t really have a plan for what she’s going to say. An apology for the deception, gratitude for not having them arrested, making sure she knows the friendship they’d developed was real.

                But when she reaches the room the other woman is nowhere to be seen. Instead Amaya, Mick and the Dowager empress herself are standing near the window. On a stool rests the glittering crown, and the older woman just smiles before handing the letter to Amaya.

                “They’ve eloped,” she chuckles, obviously more amused than upset.

                Lisa and Mick share pleased grins, maybe her brother wasn’t an idiot after all.

* * *

                On the other side of Paris a boat is making its way down the river as the lights of the city reflect on the water.

                “Well,” Sara moves to lean against the railing next to Leonard. “Now what?”

                “Now?” he smirks, “No we can be whatever, go wherever you like. But first,” he takes the drink from her hand, setting it aside before holding his hand out in invitation. “I believe I owe you a dance?”

                “I suppose you do,” she smiles, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to the center of the deck. She’s not really sure where the music is coming from, but it’s just loud enough dance along to.

                In a lot of ways it’s like that first dance; the same chemistry, the easy way they fall into step together. But this time neither is trying to hide their feelings, and as the song comes to a close his lips find hers.

                She smiles into the kiss. And decides that maybe orphans and misfits can have happy endings after all.


End file.
